


The Phantom In Her Ear

by GreyWren



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWren/pseuds/GreyWren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things end tragically for Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phantom In Her Ear

“I’m a coward.”

“I do not think so.”

“Hah. I’m abandoning my responsibilities, my friends, and half of Thedas because I lost a loved one. How many people in this fortress have lost people do you think? How many of them _gained_ the will to fight because of it, just as you did? And you say I’m not a coward.”

Cassandra’s face was ashen, deep circles under her eyes and her mouth was slack as if it were no longer capable of pulling itself into any other shape. The expression had become a horribly familiar fixture on the faces of the inner circle members, each of them wore the deadened, drained look perpetually as if all other emotions had been stripped away like plaster under the combined weight of what they had done and the things they had learned. It was only interrupted by twisted scowls and heavy sighs.

Lavellan knew she looked the worst of all of them.

“I do not believe you are a coward,” Cassandra said in a low voice that lacked her usual conviction, “because you made the decision that I would not have been able to make myself. Just as you always have.”

Lavellan stared into the hearth, letting the fire overwhelm her senses. She focused on the light until her eyes watered and spots danced wickedly in her vision but she wouldn’t dare let her eyes drift out the window to the balcony. She sat too close to the flames and let the heat gather perspiration on her brow, banishing the memory of ice-cold magic on her face. The pungency of smoke cast away the ghosts of musky herbs and animal skins, and popping logs kept the voice at bay for memory was a phantom in her ear constantly whispering:

_Ar lath ma,vehnan._

Cassandra shifted, drawing her attention away from the fire. The rustle of her clothing was unnaturally loud in the dark and hushed room that was Lavellan’s quarters.

“They say the right choices are often the most agonizing,” she said, “how is that not a courageous thing to do?”

Lavellan barked out a laugh through bared teeth that was more a snarl than any sound a person might make.

“When I chose the mages over the Templars I knew it was right. Then at Redcliffe I allied them and I regretted angering you and Cullen but I was satisfied and we moved on. I helped the Wardens because I believe in second chances, I saved Celene because letting her die would put blood on my own hands. The Well of Sorrows was the hardest but I drank because I didn’t want to risk Morrigan’s life, not when she had a son depending on her. Nothing was perfect but I had a reason for everything.”

She took a ragged breath, glaring at her left palm.

“Nothing feels right any more. I can’t even fill field requisition without wondering who will die because I chose one over the other. It would take such a tiny mistake to bring the Inquisition crashing down; it’s really only a matter of time. Even the largest empires have fallen for less.”

Cassandra regarded her with dark eyes the scar on her cheek livid in the fire light.

“You are referring to the ancient elvhen empire.”

Lavellan said nothing and Cassandra sighed, a heavy weary sound of regret.

“Solas – Fen Harel whatever he would be called – I believe he cast his lot long before the Inquisition was even thought of. Perhaps even longer ago than any living person can remember. He was a man obsessed and with a life span such as his, it is easy to imagine his obsession became all he was.”

Lavellan smiled sadly at her friend's words, “And I was his mistake.”

“Because he refused to kill you.”

“Yes.”

She shut her eyes remembering the unfathomable agony carved on his face, and agony mirrored on her own. He was open to her as he had never been before and she knew by his eyes that if by some twist of fate anyone else had borne his mark on their hand he would have fought them in earnest.

Anyone that wasn’t her – his lover, his heart – he would have slaughtered.

“I had intended to help him, you know,” she looked up to see Cassandra frown, “I promised it to him even, I said whatever he had done, whatever he was chasing, I would help fix it and I meant it. I would have followed him to the ends of the earth… if – if there had been another way.”

Lavellan wished she could weep, anything would be better than clinging to agony and regret like a rock lodged in her heart but no tears had ever come, in even in the aftermath of –

“I was not close to Solas, Inquisitor, but I did consider him a friend. Just as when we discovered Blackwall’s crimes you were quick to forgive. I try and fail to do the same for Solas even now, but what you did -,”

Lavellan cut her off, lurching forward and grasping onto the mantle.

What she did was what? Noble? Courageous? Terrible was the only word to be said for what she did, making a choice nobody should have to make.

“Damn it! Blackwall didn’t make me choose him or the rest of the world, the rest of my friends.”

“History will remember it as a sacrifice for the greater-,”

“Sacrifice? I loved him. How do you choose something like that? I made him a promise and I made the world a promise, that wasn’t a sacrifice it was a betrayal. The world or the one I loved most. I had to choose who to betray and I chose him.”

She did cry now, finally, but there was no relief in it. She turned away from Casandra, her face aching from the strain of holding back a scream.

It was the second time he’d asked her to hate him…

…After her staff blade flashed in the moonlight and disappeared into his stomach. It came out crimson and she was in shock. She didn’t expect him not to fight, or not to heal himself. He just stood there, stood there and looked at her as sad as he’d ever been, blood flowing from his wound.

She’d screamed at him to save himself, don’t do this to her, come with her, it would be alright. She’d killed demons, giants, dragons, and ancient evils. She’s walked the Fade in the flesh, saved the empress of Orlais, and freed all mages. Now she was powerless to save the man she loved.

Lavellan cradled her lover as he died, in a field of perfect spring grass, the perfume of blossoming trees floating about them, and the stars glittering like snowflakes overhead. It should have been beautiful, not unlike the day he first broke her heart. She would rather live through that day a thousand times than face what the next moments would bring her.

He whispered to her in a language she finally understood perfectly.

“You should hate me,” he said, “It would be easier.”

"I could never do that. You know me better than that.”

Perhaps her heart was not capable of hate, for even in her darkest hour there had been nothing she could do but whisper I love you, I love you.

_I love you._

“I didn’t have to kill him,” she gasped, “he could have stopped, accepted things as they are and stayed with us, with me. There was a life he could have built with me.”

“He had been planning for centuries, don’t you think he was much too far gone to lie down and give up?”

“Too prideful you mean. That bastard. Is the world really so terrible he couldn’t bear to live with what he had done? So what the elves are missing their empire, they have been for thousands of years. Would thrusting it upon them out of nowhere make anything better?”

“We will never know now. As for me, I would be sorry to see the ending of the world as it is, even as imperfect as it may be.”

“That’s just it, Cassandra. We didn’t know the world _would_ have ended. Yes, there was a chance the Fade could have exploded into reality suddenly, the entire world becoming a massive breach all at once, the only people to survive being powerful mages. But it could also have happened gradually, so slowly as not to be noticed at all.”

“That was not a risk you were willing to take.”

Lavellan didn’t have the heart to correct her. Truthfully she wanted to see the wonders Solas always described to her, feel the magics he spoke of with such conviction. Even if she cared nothing for empire building or the former glory of the elves, she shared his passion for knowledge. She wanted to be a part of the world he loved to much, but more desperately and painfully than anything else she wanted him to be happy.

Now the circle had come around in full and it was _her_ world that was so incomplete and wrong.

“I can’t make decisions anymore, Cassandra, because I’m certain I made the wrong one,” she sank into a nearby chair, “I’m such a gods damned fool.”

The Seeker moved to crouch before her and amazingly she wore a smile. It was small but the eyes it reached were deep with respect. Lavellan was startled. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen from any of her friends in months.

“You are no fool, Inquisitor,” she said.

Lavellan swallowed a lump in her throat as she remembered a time when this moment was reversed, Cassandra full of self-doubt and herself the reassuring friend.

“Who else would have done half of what you have for the world? You brush off praise like dust from a shelf but you truly have a heart more pure than anyone I have met before, and I have known many good people. But everyone has their limits and you heart weighs heavier than most. Trust me when I say that no one will blame you for leaving.”

“You can’t know that.”

Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder, her eyes hard with intention.

“If they do then I will make them understand.”

Lavellan held her gaze for a few long moments before rising, shoulders back, and crossed to her desk with finality in her stride. She swept her cloak over the armor she had already donned when Cassandra caught her, slung a pack on her arm, and grasped her staff with deft confidence she didn’t really feel.

She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Slowly she slid open the topmost desk drawer and peered at the dark shape of its contents. She had half a mind to leave it behind, she wanted no reminders of her grief to weigh her down but now it felt wrong to part with it.

She lifted the wolf’s jaw on its leather cords and regarded it like an old friend, or an old enemy. No…like an old lover. When it settled heavy on her chest she knew she never actually intended to leave without it.

Cassandra leaned against the wall, watching her.

“I assume you know I’m leaving the Inquisition to you.”

The other woman made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes but there was no hint of anger in her voice.

“I had dreaded as much.”

Lavellan grinned. “Good then. I don’t have to worry about Sera burning the place down. Here.”

She pressed a fat packet of letters into Cassandra’s hands, a knot forming in her chest. This had to be quick or she would lose her nerve.

“Th-There’s one for everyone, but you may have to read Cole’s to him. You know how he gets distracted,” her voice was shaking, “I had to say goodbye. I wanted to face-to-face but-,”

But she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t face them and say she didn’t have the strength to be their leader anymore. They probably wouldn’t hate her, no but she knew she couldn’t stay and goodbyes were a messy affair. Someone, Dorian or Cullen or Varric probably, would say something to break her heart into even more pieces and change her mind.

Suddenly she was trapped in in the Seeker’s bone-crushing embrace.

“You _will_ take care of yourself and you _will_ return to us,” she said in a watery voice.

“Yes, ser.”

They both laughed through tears.

Lavellan stood straight and saluted, “Take care of our friends, Inquisitor Pentaghast.”

Cassandra nodded as firmly as she could manage and turned away wiping her face.

Lavellan stepped out the door.

Skyhold was silent and so was she, sneaking through the halls she had come to call home. She must have painted quite the picture; the lone, hooded apostate slinking away in the dead of night. Creators, Maker – whatever powers were truly above them – knew the Inquisition didn’t need any more of those. She prayed she would be the last.

She stood on the edge of the forest with snow in her hair and a small shred of new hope in her heart. She would wander on her own for a while, put herself back together as much as she could. Then…she wasn’t sure. Hawke was at Weisshaupt, she could go there. Or find the Hero of Ferelden. Maybe she would even hunt down Morrigan. Whatever she decided, the Inquisition was in good hands, and it would be waiting for her when she returned.

Because of course she would return. Home was were the heart was after all, and though hers was gone and broken with guilt crushing her soul, hearts could mend and souls could endure. She had good friends to help her heal.

And the world would continue on regardless, for what was her sorrow to the turning of time? One person’s suffering was a small price for the safety of all. It would be alright.

Without a backward glance she stepped into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> God I hate myself for writing this but I'm getting used to the idea of killing Solas so if we don't have to in the end I'll be super happy. Yay for sad fics.


End file.
